


Escape

by Legendgrass



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-17 13:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18966394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendgrass/pseuds/Legendgrass
Summary: When Hena offered a ride with a charming and savvy guide, Link hadn't expected to take those words to heart. The fishing hole is a place of escape for the hero of Hyrule. Except, when his dark burdens cling to him like lingering twilight and Hena becomes a rare spot of light in the midst of it, Link finds himself with all new problems to run from.





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey there!” chirped the quaint figure behind the counter. She wore brown overalls over a blouse in flowing warm colors. An array of fishing poles on display behind her expressed her apparent career. “Welcome to the fishing hole. I’m Hena. It’s 20 rupees to go fishing alone, or you can get yourself a lesson with this charming and savvy guide for 100.” She tucked her thumbs into her suspenders and smiled, which lit up her good-humored face.

Link took a few absent steps from the doorway, peering around. He took in the pictures lined along the wall, an empty fish tank, and a dry canoe. He thought for a long moment before asking, “I have to pay to take you on a boat ride?”

The pretty young woman looked offended. Her sweeping brows met in a frown. “Of course not!” she exclaimed. “You pay for my priceless fishing tips and the pleasure of my company.”

Link nodded noncommittally. He had still not looked at her once, and Hena took his inattention as further insult

“If you’d rather not pay, I don’t have to let you fish in my pond at all, sir.”

He turned his head and met her pouting expression with clear, steady eyes. “I want to fish,” he said.

“Well, then, what’ll it be? The price is 20, or 100 for a lesson.”

Link was moving to stand in front of the wall where a shelf stood at waist height. He picked up a painted wooden block with a mazelike pattern on it.

Hena brightened up and came round the counter to join him. She pointed to the block. “That’s Rollgoal. The rules are on the other side. It’s 5 rupees to play, and I’ll give you 10 if you win,” she explained. She tilted her head and fixed large brown eyes on him expectantly. “So?”

Link fingered the bead that rolled around the depression in the wood block. “What about free tips instead?” he suggested.

“You want to pay for a lesson by winning this?” demanded Hena. “Then my advice wouldn’t really be priceless anymore, would it?”

“100 rupees isn’t priceless, either,” pointed out Link.

“You know what? Fine, pretty boy. You clear that level on your first try, and I’ll let you take a spin in the canoe with me, free of charge.” Hena crossed her arms and faced Link squarely in challenge.

“Okay,” he said, and his eyes sparkled slyly.

He took the block in both hands and as she watched, he started the ball rolling.

***

Link pushed the canoe away from the dock and hopped in before it could travel too far. His landing rocked the little craft dangerously, and Hena’s hands shot out to grab the sides. “Watch it!” she cried.

Link found his balance and sat down on one of the low benches toward the center of the canoe. “Sorry.”

“First you cheat me out of 100 rupees with your little bet, and then you try to capsize my craft, too! The nerve,” Hena huffed, heatedly resettling her hat over her ears.

Link looked hurt, but when Hena glanced at him from beneath the brim of her hat, her expression wasn’t really angry. “You’d better impress me after all that trouble,” she added.

Link’s frown slowly eased, and then he shrugged at her as if to say _we’ll see._

He picked up his rod from the bottom of the boat and reached for the hook. Hena was eyeing his lure suspiciously. “Sinking lures are absolutely prohibited in my pond,” she said preemptively. Link picked up the hook and held it up to her, assuring her that he had no sinking lure.

As Link baited his hook, he looked around the pond, taking in the scenery. The water was clear, beautiful aqua, like the heart of a gemstone. Around the grassy perimeter of the water marched sprawling trees whose white flowers caught the light of the sun and twinkled like stars. In the background of Link’s perception, the dull, calming roar of a waterfall was audible. The sky above their little craft was deep blue, shot through with tatters of cloud. The pond had an aura of isolation, but in a good way. Green cliff walls rose up along the back shore of the water, blocking out the world—shielding Link from his worries. It was a welcome relief.

Link cast out his fishing line and settled back on his bench. Then he said to Hena softly, “Tell me about this place.”

She had been gazing around the pond as well, taken by its beauty. It took a second for his words to reach her, but then her brown eyes came back into focus. “Oh!” she said. A smile broke across her tanned face, and she sighed. “This fishing hole is my life. My whole family has always loved to fish—well, except my lazy brother—and it was gifted to my grandfather a long time ago in exchange for a great service to the Hyrule royal family.” 

At the mention of a great service to Hyrule, Link’s thoughts clouded.

She continued on, oblivious to the change on his face, “I don’t even know what it was, but the princess gave him this pond, and it’s been passed down ever since.”

The princess gave Link shivers. He shouldn’t be here. He had a duty to fulfill. He pushed feelings of darkness away. “Aren’t you the youngest?” he asked Hena.

Hena spread her arms in a grand shrug. “Iza or Coro could have inherited it if they wanted, but I’ve always been the most in love with fishing, and this place.” She looked up at the sky and smiled again as if the two of them were sharing a joke.

Link contemplated how much Hena’s attitude had improved after only a short time on the water. He was about to ask her about it, but something interrupted him. A tug on his line stole Link’s attention and he reeled in sharply, but a second later the presence was gone.

“Did you hook something?” asked Hena with excitement, sitting forward on her bench.

Link watched the ripples spread out from his bobber for a moment. Then he shrugged and shook his head.

“Oh. Phantom pulls, probably; I’ve had it happen before, too,” Hena dismissed it.

Link drew in his line and cast it out further again. There was a long pause while Link waited for a fish to bite and the only sounds on the pond were the lazy lapping of water and the faint hiss of a breeze in the star-flowered trees. Then he remembered his question for her. 

“Why do you love fishing so much?”

Hena sat back and crossed her arms over her overalls, seeming to think deeply about that. Her eyes searched the heavens, turning the color of caramel in the sunlight. “I don’t really know,” she said. “Something about the challenge. Plus the atmosphere.” She took in a deep breath of the sweet air. “I could spend days on the pond and not notice, it’s so beautiful. You know?”

Link nodded silently. He did understand the comforting nature of the atmosphere; the pond was isolated, pretty, temperate—but he did not have days to spend lost in relaxation. Suddenly sad, he looked away.

After a moment he could feel Hena’s gaze on him. “What about you, pretty boy?” she asked, her eyes narrowed curiously. “Why did you come here?”

Link took his time twitching his fishing pole so that the lure spun just above a shadowy spot in the water before he answered, “Heard about the charming guide.”

“That’s real funny,” Hena said with an edge to her voice. “I meant actually.”

“I—whoa!”

Link felt another tug on his line, but this time it was no ‘phantom pull.’ Something pulled hard against the line and Link jerked his arms back to set the hook. Hena gasped and began shouting in excitement and stood up on her knees to get a better view of the water. Link began reeling furiously. The canoe was rocking dangerously and sending large ripples over the calm pond surface. The fish at the other end of the hook felt big. Challenging. Link’s focus was on his catch as he drew it slowly closer, fighting rapid jerks and movements in the line. That only made Link want to land it more. He became absorbed in the fight.

“Watch out! It’s going to jump,” called Hena suddenly. She broke Link’s concentration.

When the fish jumped, its fat body seemed to soar in slow motion. Link failed to drop his pole and keep the slack out of the line until too late. When he finally snapped into action, he reeled in hard just as the fish hit the water again, making the line suddenly pull taut and yank Link off balance. Hena, on her knees at the side of the canoe, was in just the right place to send the craft over its limit. The canoe creaked to the side and capsized.

Water rushed over Link’s head and he squeezed his eyes shut against roiling bubbles. His hearing went muffled, and he felt cold water thrust its fingers under his clothes and into his mouth and nose. He had to drop his pole as he flailed his arms to bring himself upright. Finally his head broke the surface of the pond, and he coughed and shook his face free of droplets. Breathing hard with the shock of the chilly water, Link looked around. “Hena,” he called, his voice rough from swallowing water. He scanned the water around him. He couldn’t see her.

Link took a deep breath and plunged under the water. He opened his eyes, ignoring the sting, and peered around. Underwater, the pond was just as beautiful as it was on the surface. Shafts of light cut through the depths and turned the dark blue turquoise, and the light and shadow created swirling patterns on the white sand floor. Colorful coral inhabited the dips and swells in the sand at the deepest points. And, to Link’s relief, there was Hena.

Rather than struggling for the surface in panic as Link had done, she was treading water in the midst of the pond, taking in the secret landscape of its depths. Her eyes were once again bright caramel, and her blouse billowed about her as she reached to touch a passing fish. Link stopped stroking and she looked across at him, and their eyes met. He motioned upward.

He kicked to the surface, and a moment later Hena’s head broke the water beside him. She went to take a gulp of air, but sank under again and choked on water. Link grabbed her waist quickly to haul her head above water again. “Are you okay?” he said.

“Yeah,” she answered, and coughed. She pushed his hands away and swam slowly for the overturned canoe, obviously still collecting herself. Link kicked out and followed her.

“Sorry,” he told her as she reached the craft and took hold of it, “for tipping the boat.”

Hena clung to the bottom of the canoe, giving him a sideways glance. “That’s all right. It puts things in perspective.”

Link didn’t know what she meant by that, but he remained silent. He stroked to the opposite side of the canoe and helped Hena propel it toward the shore. The sky above was losing its blue luster and becoming more gold as the sun fell toward the clifftops. It struck the pond at an odd angle, making the water look molten. The reflection off the sparkling ripples make Link squint against the intensity as they pushed through the golden pool. 

Finally they reached the shore and were able to put their feet on solid ground again. Link dragged the canoe onto the grassy slope, and Hena helped him turn it rightside up again. Then she flopped down next to it.

...


	2. Chapter 2

Link glanced over at Hena in alarm, but she was simply stretching out comfortably. She noticed his look and smiled, and her teeth caught the sunlight. "Exciting afternoon, huh?"

"I didn't catch anything," said Link, coming to sit beside her.

Hena waved her hand. "It's all about the challenge," she said. "It wouldn't be fair if you always won."

Link looked off across the pond. He couldn't see beneath the surface at all, the orangey glare of the sun was so strong. Her words struck him. He remembered frustrations that had tripped him up in his quest; unwinnable battles. _It wouldn't be fair if you always won._ But he had to always win. If he didn't always win, he would die. Hyrule would be doomed to eternal twilight. He looked around, suddenly feeling the weight of the twilight time on him. The golden sun no longer seemed so bright. It oppressed him. He could sense his shadow twitch without him, too—Midna. Link shivered.

Hena glanced up at him and frowned. "Are you all right? You look a little sick." She sat up on her elbows and reached to feel his brow for a fever, but Link shied away. Hena's frown deepened. "Hey," she said, "what's going on?"

Link shook his head. "Probably just seasick. Pond-sick."

"Haven't been out in boats much before, huh?" she asked, hardly convinced.

He shook his head again.

Hena studied his face, resting her arms behind her head. Link tried not to acknowledge her. "Oh," Hena said after a long moment, as if she'd just recalled something. "You were going to tell me what you're doing here."

Link smiled slightly, without humor. "Fish," he said. "It's a pond."

Hena sighed grandly and sat up. She reached up to undo the clasps of her overalls.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting out of these wet waders. It will get cold once the sun goes down. Plus, we're going to be here for a while if you won't be straight with me, pretty boy."

Link rolled his eyes very subtly.

"That reminds me. What is your name, actually?" she asked, pulling her overalls down so they folded around her waist. Her damp blouse hung loosely off one shoulder, leaving the tanned skin exposed. Link looked away from her intense gaze on him.

"Link," he said.

"Link? Like Lincoln? Or a chain link?"

He shrugged. "Link."

"Okay, then, Lincoln. What brings you to my pond, actually?"

Link gave her an unimpressed look for the choice of address. His face quickly cleared, however, as he looked back over the pond. The sun had fallen behind the cliff edge. The sky was more pink than yellow, and his discomfort had passed. The pond water was rosy, like the color of Hena's shirt. "I need peace sometimes," he said.

"Have a busy life, do you?" asked Hena.

Link felt Midna shift, and he winced ever so slightly. How much was safe to tell this fisherwoman? His mission wasn't common knowledge. Who could he trust? Just to be safe, Link limited his response to a shrug.

Hena pushed him. "No, I'm curious, now," she said. "What do you do?"

Link felt a tug on his shadow, as if it were a fishing line and he was the one hooked. Midna was warning him. Link struggled—he liked Hena, and he didn't want to offend her (more than he had already), but he did not feel secure enough with her to share his story. He tried to glance at her discreetly for some insight, but Hena was watching him, and he flicked his gaze away. It took a long time for him to answer, but finally caution won out. "I shouldn't say," he said.

Hena deflated just a little bit. His tortured expression seemed to deter her from pushing him further, however. "Hm," she hummed in disappointment. "Well, okay, if it's that important to you." She sat up and reached to fix her hair, dismissively. "It's getting dark. We should pack up and head inside."

 _We?_ Link didn't want to stay the night. He looked around as Hena rose and collected a crate of fishing supplies from the end of the wooden dock, including her own pole. That made Link realize, "I lost my pole."

Hena looked at him, and her expression was scolding. "Where?" she demanded. "How are you supposed to fish again without a pole?"

Link gestured to the water, which lapped harmlessly at the grassy shore. In the shadows cast by the waning red light, the edge of the gray water was indistinct against the gray grass.

"Oh, when you fell?" asked Hena, her anger ebbing. "Well, I guess you'll have to get a new one. Or jump in and dive for it. I'd be glad to push you."

Link looked at her sharply, feeling hurt. Hena snickered softly at his face as she walked up to him, fishing gear in her arms. "I'm just kidding," she said. "Here." She deposited a load of supplies into his grasp. Then she turned and sauntered up the slope toward the shack that was her store, and Link followed.

...

"You're absolutely sure you want to leave in the dark? The river can be tricky at night." Hena didn't sound concerned, but her eyes betrayed her.

Hena had hung up her damp overalls and was instead wearing a soft sleeping gown in the same warm colors as her blouse. Link was preparing his pack to venture out again. He couldn't afford to spend any more time here, for his own sake. The aura of the pond was addictive, and the guide...well, she really was charming. But he had duties to return to. He found himself finishing the thought with, _But...return from?_ Link sighed. Every day was a risk. Any battle could prove too much for him. Every day could be his last. His hands stilled from packing as his thoughts sank into a funk.

He felt Hena move up beside him. "You may not want to tell me what you do for a living, but I can tell it's something serious," she said. Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet. Link looked at her bleakly, and his heart was steadied a little bit by the warmth in her brown eyes. "Come on back here if you ever need a break, will you?"

A small smile passed his face, and Link nodded. He finished with his pack, fastened the clasp and swung the bag onto his shoulder. Over his other, he hung his bow.

Hena followed him to the door and held it open as he stepped out, down the single step and onto the porch. Link felt it polite to turn back to bid her farewell. When he did, Hena was already leaning out the doorway to him. "I mean actually," she said, and her voice was tight. "Come back soon. And pay for a lesson this time."

Link chuckled slightly. He reached for her hand, and she allowed him to raise her fingers to his lips and plant a kiss there. He didn't say anything else before turning out into the moonlight and crossing the grass toward the door to the real world. Before he opened it, the air rang with the hiss of him drawing his sword.

...


	3. Chapter 3

The next time he returned to the fishing hole was not soon. There was little time on Link's hands for play as he ranged through Hyrule, beating back Twili beasts and struggling his way through convoluted dungeons. Thoughts of living skeletons, flying, crawling, and hiding beasts at every turn, dim passageways, and shattered mirrors haunted him even after he escaped each time into open air. He rarely slept, and when he did he was plagued with nightmares.

Loneliness amplified his torture. Few people looked at him except to ask favors of him. Others avoided him in fear. He didn't know whether his reputation cleared the path before him, or the Master Sword strapped to his slim form and the look of doom in his eyes. Midna did her best to support him in his quest, but she was only a constant reminder of his burden.

The fishing hole receded into fuzzy memory, and he did not think of Hena for a long time.

It took a near-death experience to prompt their second meeting.

...

Link, passing through the Upper Zora's River on his way downriver to central Hyrule, did not even give a glance at the solitary door to the fishing hole, set in green cliff. His focus was on the boat rental shack that crouched near the water's edge.

Strangely, he could not see any boats moored under the building's small wharf. Canoes were instead scattered along the riverbank, dry as bones. He scanned the scene with sudden suspicion. The building seemed untouched, though it bowed slightly under its own weight. A ramp led up to its front door, where there hung a sign too distant for him to read. A dam spanned the river nearby, with a walkway across its length.

The only sign of life was a frazzled young woman standing near the base of the ramp. She seemed to be busily applying tar to a canoe, which was futile because it obviously hadn't touched water for some time. She was clad in purple and blue and her skin, tanned from the sun, was almost the same brown as her voluminous curly hair. Link could hear her speaking agitatedly to herself from where he stood.

He actually had to debate whether to approach, wary that she may be mad from too much sun exposure. In the end Link sheathed his weapons and walked across the grassy stretch toward her as harmlessly as possible. When he grew close, she spotted his shadow (or rather, Midna molded to look like his shadow) and jumped up in a flutter.

"Well, hey, there," she greeted him loudly. Her caramel eyes were bright and searching and familiar. Her wiry form was tense with caution, contradicting her friendly tone as she said, "Hate to disappoint a traveller, but I'm currently out of business."

Link looked around at the beached canoes. "What happened?"

"Trouble downriver, so I hear. It's hard to tell; I spend all my time up here by the water with just my sister and the fish-people to keep me company."

Link studied her carefully, analyzing for lies or a trap (everything else always was), but her big brown eyes were earnest. "Everything is just so still these days," she added. "Creepy, I have to say."

Link felt discomfort gathering like a storm in his belly. He knew the feeling. He wished often that he could escape from the creepy that surrounded his life. He missed Ordon, and Justice, and Ilia. At that name he cringed inwardly, pushing away another topic that brought back pain and guilt. He looked at the brown woman again and said, "Thanks for your time."

He wanted to get downriver as fast as possible, but he would have to find another way. He rattled his sword in its sheath absently, preparing to get back on the move.

"Sure thing," said the woman, bowing her head in a way that made her massive hair bounce and wobble. "I've been Iza, if anyone offers you a customer service survey."

Link wasn't sure whether she was joking or delusional, so he settled for giving her a polite smile.

As he began to turn away he saw the door to the decrepit boating building crack open and a face enter the opening. He stopped abruptly and watched as a familiar figure in overalls followed the freckled, brown-eyed face out onto the wharf, which creaked in lazy protest.

A quick succession of emotions chased themselves through his head: confusion, surprise, dread, guilt; and he suddenly decided to pretend as though he hadn't seen her and flee. He turned and quickened his pace, ignoring Hena's shout of, "Link!"

He lowered his head and continued, hearing Iza behind him say loudly, "Hena, you know this champ?" and Hena's step on the wooden ramp down from the dam.

He didn't want to face her, even though she had briefly been a tiny bright spot in his dark life. The truth was that he'd forgotten her. He didn't want to admit it, and he felt that speaking with her would force him into an awkward place.

"Link," she called again, more unsurely.

Something in her voice prompted him to turn back and look at her. He had just enough time to see her hurrying across the grass to him, almost at a run.

The same instant a horrible shrieking like the protest of metal on metal filled the air. It came from somewhere above. Link squeezed his eyes shut in pain. His head buzzed between his ears and his vision swam with spots behind his eyelids. All awareness of everything else fell away. When Link forced himself to straighten and his eyes to open, the light in the river valley seemed to warp and grow dim like nightfall in the middle of the day.

No—like twilight.

_No._

His heart began to race, and Link shook his head vigorously and dropped into a defensive crouch. A hiss sounded by his ear as he drew his sword. Link let his eyes rove across the sky above him, anticipating. The only thing that cut into his hearing besides his own ragged breathing was a cry from across the clearing; feminine, helpless.

Horror suddenly filled him and he turned to see Hena across the grassy yard, hands clasped over her ears. His heart dropped. He started to move toward her, but the object in the sky stopped him.

The portal first appeared as a black smudge overheard and soon solidified into a gaping hole, swirling and growing. Dark squares of shadow shifted inside it, pieces of the other side. Even as the portal formed, stones made of darkness materialized and fell from the sky to the ground with massive thuds. Link felt panic rising. He couldn't be trapped. He skipped to and fro, trying to escape the confines of the stones as one fell after the next in succession, forming a ring around him.

As the last stone began to fall, he turned and tried to sprint in one final effort. The impact of the cursed stone directly in front of his face halted him and he pressed his palms to it futilely. The circle was complete.

He turned back to the center of the ring, which was now walled in by flickering red streams of light. He tightened his grip on his sword hilt and scanned the battlefield.

His blood froze.

_Hena._

She was trapped inside.

...


	4. Chapter 4

Link sidestepped around the perimeter of the circle, trying to reach Hena without turning his back to the portal. Another ear-rending shriek echoed from the sky, and this time it was accompanied by a body. A large, black, ape-like form plummeted like a parasitic boulder from the opening. Before it hit the ground, it unfurled, revealing thick ropy limbs and a faceless tentacled head.

The no-face turned to Link and seemed to trap him with its absence of a gaze. The flat thing that stood in place of its visage attacked Link's mind like a dagger, instilling an unnatural fear in him. His hand was getting slippery on the hilt of the Master Sword.

He tore his gaze away from the terrible thing and glanced at Hena. She stood with her back pressed against one of the stones, knees trembling visibly. Her caramel eyes reflected the darkness of the shadow portal instead of their usual bright humor as two more beasts dropped from the sky.

Feeling his gaze, she threw a look at him in return, and it was full of terror.

Link suddenly stopped moving toward her. _Stupid!_ He'd been thinking to protect her, but if he kept moving he would just draw the beast's attention to her.

Cursing himself, he changed direction and crept back the other way, legs burning as he crouched low.

"Link!" Hena cried in a strangled whisper, beginning to panic as she saw him go.

He looked at her and shook his head fiercely. _Get down,_ he tried to say with his eyes.

The shadow beasts were all focused on him now. The unnatural fear that they radiated was making his innards twist, but he fought it. He couldn't freeze. Hena's life depended on it now— not just his own.

A beast shrieked and leaped at him.

Link gasped and rolled forward, cutting under the beast's belly as it jumped above. He came up turning a hundred eighty degrees to face the beast's back and lashed out with his sword. A red beam of light sprang from the wound that Link's sword tore in its flesh. Another unearthly scream, and the thing fell.

The other two monsters surged toward him angrily.

He deflected a ropy black arm with his shield. A flat no-face appeared on his right and he whirled to smash it with his sword hilt.

Something blurred toward his legs and he leaped, just clipping his toes on the obstacle. A claw.

He landed lightly and spun, blasting both monsters away from himself with his flashing blade. One growled. The other went into throes of agony, clawing at its flat face where a red wound now glowed hotly. It staggered back.

Link felt a flicker of satisfaction— until he realized that the monster was retreating right toward Hena's cowering form.

Link was about to pursue it and cut it down, but the third shadow beast was still upon him. Link went on the defensive, parrying swipes from terrifying obsidian claws. His breath was growing rough. He spared a glance over his shoulder and registered that Hena was running. Running away from the wounded beast, which was following. Toward Link.

He cursed. The monsters were converging on him.

He whipped his head back around to face his opponent just in time to see claws coming for his neck. Link barely raised the Master Sword in time to save himself.

As the monstrous fingers glanced away from his skin Link took advantage of the opening and lunged, sword braced against his hip for stability. It pierced the chest of the faceless beast and sent red light shooting from the new, fatal wound. A shriek tore into Link's ears at close range. The beast reared up, talons flailing in its final throes.

As it fell forward, Link withdrew his sword and pivoted to face the final creature. It was closer than he'd thought— and right on Hena's heels. "Duck!" he cried to her. There was no more time. In a blur, the shadow beast lunged, thick arms outstretched; Hena dove to the ground; Link whirled his sword to point at the creature's chest.

The black form hit him like a horse-drawn carriage. His entire skeleton jarred roughly and he fell. His sword arm was suddenly under immense pressure.

Black filled his vision. He couldn't tell if it was Twili flesh or the jaws of death.

A scream pierced his eardrums. Pain pierced his abdomen, and his own scream joined the beast's. His senses were all overwhelmed.

Somewhere, at the fringes of his awareness, something like his name surfaced through it all.

Then Link lost consciousness.

...

He came to, feeling something soft beneath him. Not grass. A bed. He kept his eyes closed and listened. He couldn't assume that he was among friends.

Hearing nothing but distant birdsong and the sizzle of some food cooking, Link decided that he was probably safe. Slowly he cracked his eyes open, letting his gaze roam over his surroundings: wood panels and low rafters…a canoe on the wall, long poles, and mounted fish…a live fireplace…half-open drawers filled with warm-colored blouses and waders.

Hena's house.

His heart filled with anxiety and guilt, and Link was overwhelmed with one thought:

_I forgot._

He'd forgotten her. How had he forgotten her? 'Come back soon,' she'd said, and he hadn't. He didn't remember how long it had been.

He didn't want to stay here. He couldn't ask anything of her, after he'd failed her so callously. All he could do was leave and hope she forgot him soon, too.

He had to leave.

Link tried to sit up—

And he nearly passed out. Pain ripped through him, radiating from his torso and burning him down to the tips of his fingers. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out. Looking down, he saw that he wore a loose gray tunic that wasn't his, and beneath the fabric, bandages were wrapped around his middle. They were stained through with blood. Breathing heavily, Link touched the bloody fabric with his fingers, trying to understand what it meant. His memory was spotty. He knew he'd fought the shadow beasts, but the details of the fight eluded him. He remembered that Hena had been there, but not why or what had happened. Sudden fear rushed into him, and it felt like déjà vu. Was she safe?

Link's breath caught inexplicably, and he coughed. It sent waves of pain shooting through his body. He had to lie down, wincing until the bout passed and the pain gradually died away. Even after Link felt some relief, he kept his eyes closed as if that might block out reality.

He couldn't be wounded.

Being wounded meant he would have to stay here.

With Hena.

And face his mistakes.

It was then that a step sounded on the floorboards across the room. Link knew who it was without looking. He kept his eyes shut tightly, trying to look unconscious, trying to shrink into himself so that he wouldn't have to meet her lovely caramel eyes and tell her he'd betrayed her.

It did not work. Hena must have seen his contorted expression from the doorway and realized that he was awake, because she hurried to his side at once. Link sensed her kneel down beside the bed.

"Lincoln?" Hena whispered. Her voice was soft and concerned. Link felt her shift again, and he reluctantly opened his eyes just as she pressed her wrist to his brow, feeling for fever. He flinched slightly at the contact.

She pulled back. "I'm sorry. Does that hurt?"

Link rolled his head slightly from side to side.

Hena sat back on her heels. "Okay, good. I'm glad you're awake."

"What happened?"

"Some…monsters came down, and trapped us. It was like we were walled in by the shadows themselves. You were fighting them off and one ran after me and you…you got in between."

There was a pause as Link tried to match her story to his memory. It was like a fog hung over his thoughts, hiding them from his scrutiny. It was disconcerting to be blocked off from your own mind.

"You saved me," Hena added softly. "And this is what you got."

She reached across and fingered the edge of his bandages regretfully. Link wanted to shy away, but he was wary of the pain it would bring. Then Hena stood.

"Anyway," she said, looking away, "I brought this." She reached into the pocket of her overalls and brought out a jar filled to the brim with water.

"Water?"

"From the spirit's spring," she clarified. "Hyrule is too far to take you to find a physician, but I thought this might help heal you. I collected it a long time ago. I'd started to think I would never need it."

Link groaned against a sudden wave of pain from his torso. He shook his head, saying tightly, "No. Keep it." He would not ask this of her.

Hena pulled up a stool beside him and placed a bundle on the foot of the bed, within reach. She pulled a strip of bleached white cloth from the bundle and wound it around her open hand. "You need it more than I ever will," she said, leaning forward to peel away his bloody bandages. Link winced as they came away from the wound, taking disturbing clots of blood with them.

"You don't understand. You shouldn't help me," he said hoarsely.

"Don't be silly, Lincoln. Where I'm from, the rule is 'a life for a life.'" You saved mine, so I'm going to do my best to save yours." Her voice was firm as she spoke, but she kept her eyes downcast. She wasn't telling him something.

"Hena."

She made a questioning noise, but still would not look at him. She took another cloth from her medical bundle and popped open the lid of the water jar. There was a gleam of nervous sweat at her temples.

"What won't you say?"

Hena cleared her throat. "What are you talking about?" She dipped the cloth in the water and prepared to apply it to his wound.

Link grasped her wrist. He stared at her, waiting for an answer.

Hena stopped, lowering her head and her arm went limp in his grip as she seemed to deflate. "I won't lie to you. I…I don't know if this will work. Your wound is serious."

Link remained quiet. Absently, he realized that he could feel Hena's heartbeat beneath the soft skin of her wrist. He imagined what it would be like to feel his own pulse slow and slip away.

Because that's what she was saying.

He was probably going to die.

"Link, don't lose hope. I'm going to try—" Hena began quickly, reaching to take his cheek in her hand. Link tipped his head away slightly, so that her fingers fell away.

"You shouldn't help me," he said bluntly.

"I'm not going to give up just because—" Hena's voice rose with conviction.

"Hena."

"I promise you, Link—"

"Hena. I forgot you."

She broke off and sat back, squinting her eyes slightly in confusion. "You...what?"

"I didn't come back because I forgot." Once he said it, he had the urge to keep talking so as to delay her inevitable disappointment. "I forgot the fishing hole. I forgot peace. I forgot you."

Hena pursed her lips very slowly, and she absently ran her fingers over the edge of her healing water-soaked handkerchief. She became uncharacteristically quiet.

After a long, heavy pause, Link said softly, "I wanted to tell you. So you have no false hope in me. No expectations."

Hena was still silent. Link forced himself to look up into her face, searching her expression for some sign of her reaction. Her clear brown eyes were riveted on the cloth between her hands, but there was no sign of anger or betrayal in their depths. Eventually, she felt his gaze and let her eyes travel to meet his.

"Link," she said, and her tone was unreadable. She took a while to speak after pronouncing his name. "Whatever it is that you do with that big thing—" she gestured over her shoulder to indicate Link's sword, which leaned against the wall, "and that spiffy uniform of yours, it's obviously way bigger than me. I can see in your eyes that you carry a heavy burden. I don't blame you at all for not coming back." As she spoke, she leaned in, smoothing the hair off his brow with a gentle hand. "And besides, you were here when it mattered. I would be dead if you hadn't come strolling by, pretty boy. All I ask is that you stay here now and let me try to save you. I have a feeling the world is a better place with you in it. Now lie down and hush while I apply this."

She stood and leaned over him, dabbing the cloth once again into the healing water.

"This may sting."

...


	5. Chapter 5

Hena did save him. It took nights of desperate application of the healing water when he woke sweating and shivering from fever and infection. It took bouts of terrible pain, countless tears, and many, many bandages, but she saved him. After the worst of it was past and Link was stable, he couldn't do much except lie there and slip in and out of sleep as the healing water did its work.

Days blurred together, and noon and night became an indeterminate twilight.

Hena sometimes spent her time out on the pond, but she mostly stayed by Link's side.

His head was clearer when she was around.

Often, when she was doctoring his wounds, Hena would sing to him. It was a light and sweet melody, and Link could pick out occasional lyrics, often about nature and water.

When she was not there and singing, Link began to find himself ill at ease. His sleep was fitful and haunted with nightmares. More than once he awoke trembling, breathing hard, and relieved to find his body intact, and he would shrink in the darkness. Then Hena would be there. Her calming voice and gentle arms would embrace him till he slipped away again.

It was the best experience of his life and the worst. Worst because something was nagging at Link and eating him up inside.

He was afraid.

He would not tell her, but he regretted drawing Hena into his life because it put her in danger. She was becoming his lifeline, and it made him fear for her.

He had already cost a girl her life before, and he could not bear for Hena to follow. He wanted her safe. Her life was most important to him. Because…

Because…

Link was falling.

Falling for her.

It pained him to admit it. As long as Link was with her, Hena would be a target. He could not risk her being hurt again.

Even more than before, Link had to leave.

...

"How are you feeling?"

Link stirred and shifted, allowing her space to sit on the edge of the bed. When she did, and reached to check his bandages, Link could not suppress a shiver. Her light touch was profound on him. "Fine," he said vaguely, trying to avoid her eyes. She drew his gaze anyway.

"Pain?" she prompted, caramel eyes wide.

"Not much."

"Sick?"

"No."

Hena sighed and without warning, extended her hand to stroke his brow. She was leaning over him slightly and her skin glowed in the morning light from the window. Link closed his eyes as Hena pressed her palm to his skin, checking for fever. "I'll have to go downriver to restock today. You've been running me out of supplies, pretty boy." Her cheek dimpled in a smile and her hand slipped down to cradle his face. "Will you be okay? I hate to leave you here all bedridden and such, but Iza will be around."

"Yeah," said Link softly, guilt growing. This was his chance to leave without a messy farewell. To leave the one who had given him more care in a few days than he'd received in all his life. He had to look away from her earnest eyes for fear of getting trapped in them.

"What's the matter?" she asked gently.

Link lied, "Nothing. Travel safe."

Hena could sense something more, but she did not press him. She lifted herself from the edge of the bed and began to move around the cabin, gathering items. A pack of supplies to get her to Hyrule and back, a tiny coin purse, an empty satchel. The last thing she grabbed was a floppy hat, and Link could not help but smile slightly at her appearance when she put it on. "Are you laughing at me, pretty boy?" Hena demanded in good humor, hat drooping. "Just you wait; maybe I'll come back with a matching one for you."

Link shook his head, withdrawing into himself. He wouldn't be here when she came back.

Soon Hena was prepared to leave. She left him with a dry meal on the table beside his bed and clean clothes and bandages at the foot. "Just in case," she said. "And you'll call for Iza if you need anything else?"

Link nodded mutely, pretending that he wasn't lying to her face. He kept his eyes downcast.

Once she had shouldered her many bags, Hena came back to sit beside him again. Link was sitting upright against the headboard of the bed now. She watched him steadily for a moment, searching his face with expressive brown eyes, trying to read the unreadable. She was afraid, but she didn't know why. Without a word, Hena reached up and tipped her hat back. She leaned in to her silent patient, letting her hand brush back a lock of his hair. Then Hena kissed him on the cheek.

The moment lasted about an instant, but to Link it was eternal. Her lips lingered. The place on his cheek burned and Link fought within himself. Instinct urged him to pull her to him and forget his cares and stay, but he knew that he could not. She wouldn't be safe with him. He couldn't do anything.

Link ended up simply staring at Hena, but he knew she could see the color in his face. "I'll be back by nightfall," she said, pulling away from him. She took up a walking stick from beside the door and pushed the way open to the porch. Her eyes stayed on him for several heartbeats, and then she smiled.

Link brought himself to return the gesture, seeing as he may have been seeing Hena for the last time.

"See you, Lincoln," she said lightly. Then she was out the door.

And Link's moment of truth came.

...

"This is a bad idea."

"You might as well put all that back. You won't get far."

"You're going to ruin everything, you know."

Midna's constant stream of negative remarks buzzed in Link's ears as he hobbled around the shop, gathering his things. He found his green tunic washed and folded; sword hanging from a peg on the wall meant for a prize catch; satchel under his bed. Hena had kept his supplies together, untouched. Under other circumstances he might have feared it was because Hena was anxious to get him out the door, but that was not the case here. It was more like...reverence. Like they were precious, untouchable. Like they belonged to someone important. Or someone dead.

"She doesn't know if the water will work," Midna said matter-of-factly, as if she could sense his thoughts.

Link turned on her, agitation boiling up in him. His expression was angry, but he did not vent his irritation in words. Instead a low wolfish growl escaped the back of his throat.

"Going feral, are we?" said Midna, floating without concern near Link's bed. "That could be a problem when the girl realizes you have feelings for her."

"What do you want?" snapped Link. "It's a bad idea to go, but it's a problem to stay."

Midna shrugged and yawned. Her large red eyes would not meet his. "I'm just trying to help."

"You aren't."

"Okay, fine then, but I won't save you when you get yourself into a fix."

Before he could respond, Midna zipped down to the ground and returned to her shadow form. She blew Link a raspberry before falling into harmony with his own silhouette.

Link didn't have the energy to answer. He was breathing unnaturally hard just navigating the fishing shack. He pulled on his customary green uniform and boots regardless, blinking the spots from his eyes.

The last thing he grabbed before he made for the door was his satchel from beneath the bed. Glancing at the bed, he took a precious moment to straighten the sheets out of a sense of courtesy. He sighed at the futile act. It would never make up for the kindness she had shown him, but it was better than nothing.

He felt terrible. Mentally and physically. Now that Midna was quiet, Link had nothing to listen to but the ringing in his own ears. He stumbled as he stepped away from the bed and had to catch himself on the counter. He groaned involuntarily, lowering his head as darkness edged his vision.

His wound was throbbing. Moving his hand to feel it, Link's fingers came in contact with slick blood. It was not healed.

"Link," whispered Midna urgently. "Sit down. You're not okay."

Link did not listen. Squeezing his eyes shut, he pushed away from the counter and staggered toward the door. His breathing was ragged and his hand was pressed to his wound.

"Link!"

Link made it outside, dragging his scabbard along the ground after him. The sudden sunlight burned his eyes and he growled in pain.

"Link!"

Link stepped forward and forgot that there was a porch step between him and the ground. His foot met empty air as it missed the step. Already off-balance, Link was vulnerable to the fall. He collapsed onto his face and stayed there. He couldn't see or hear straight from the pain radiating from his torso and the sun tormenting his eyes. It occurred to him that the grass was warm under his face, and pleasant. Midna was saying something in his ear, but it wouldn't register with his addled mind. He let out some sort of noise, and then took a long time trying to decipher what he was trying to say.

Drifting off into pain-riddled unconsciousness, he realized that it was _Hena._

...


	6. Chapter 6

_"Link? Oh, my spirits, Link!"_

Link could hear as if through water: muffled, indistinctly. He floated nearer to consciousness, but the heavy gray fog of pain and exhaustion kept him submerged. He was dimly aware of movement and the presence of voices. He strained against the weight of his own mind to gather what was happening, but he could make sense of none of it before he slipped away again.

He woke to her eyes.

Hena leaned over him, hair hanging around her face in wild banners, her brown eyes wide and dark with concern. They were slightly bloodshot and swollen, as if she'd been crying.

Her hands were clutched near her chest and streaked with blood. Link was alarmed, but he realized shortly that it was his own blood. A rush of emptiness stole what was left of his breath.

"You bloody fool," was the first thing out of her mouth.

Then she flung her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder, trembling slightly with fear or sadness or relief or some combination of all three.

Link ashamedly lowered his eyes, raising one hand to rest against her back for what little comfort he could offer. As he did, he realized that he was back in bed. He wondered without much care if Hena had lifted him all by herself.

The fisherwoman was pulling herself away from him as Link raised his eyes again. Her devastated expression sent a spike into his heart. This was exactly the thing he'd tried to avoid by leaving. Midna twitched an 'I told you so' from the fringes of his shadow. Link felt too empty to acknowledge her.

"What were you thinking?" Hena whispered fiercely, eyes gleaming with fresh tears. "You could have died. I—I could have lost you." Her voice rose and she demanded, "After all I've done for you, everything we've been through, why would you run?"

Link squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain of his mistakes. He opened his mouth to speak, but he could not find the words. He struggled, caught between the truth and the desire to hide his thoughts and emotions away as he'd always done.

After a moment that strained at the seams with tension, Hena prompted, "Well?" In her voice was not anger, but betrayal so deep that it threatened to sting Link's own eyes with tears. He was afraid of the emotions that Hena stirred in him. He was not an open or vulnerable young man, but she… If Link was not careful, she might turn him into one.

"I had to," he finally said, his voice rough from pain and feeling and disuse. Hena waited for more, but Link did not offer it.

She shook her head, at a loss. "Why?"

"You almost died once already," Link said. In that single statement was a whole well of emotion: sorrow, bitterness, and most of all, shame. Link twisted his fingers together miserably, avoiding her eyes once again.

All at once, Hena sighed and all the hurt in her voice melted away, to be replaced by sorrow. "Oh, Link," she said gently. She reached to stroke the side of his face with one hand. Gradually her sun-kissed fingers eased his chin up so that he looked into her eyes. They were deep as the heart of the pond, soft as the breeze in the trees, warm as the sun on the water as she told him, "That's not your fault."

"Yes it is!" Link maintained. "I—" He searched for the words as a wave of emotion tangled his tongue.

Hena leaned in toward him. "What is it?" she pressed tenderly. "Tell me so I can convince you you're wrong."

Link's chest went tight with a sudden rush of something unfamiliar. He found it difficult to breathe for a moment, and it was not because of his wound. He searched Hena's face desperately, trying to make her understand. He couldn't stay. It was for her own good. She was…she was precious. Her life was too precious to risk it by being with him.

Hena's face grew earnest as the silence stretched longer. "Listen, pretty boy," she finally said. "The only thing that matters is that I _didn't_ die. I'm all right. You know why? You were there."

Link shook his head, pulling away from her lingering hand. Finally a response formed in his mind. "You were in danger _because_ I was here."

Hena looked slightly hurt by his motion. "That doesn't make sense."

"Danger follows me. If you're with me, you're at risk."

She snorted. "Don't be silly."

"I left because I was trying to protect you."

"I would rather be in danger with you than fat, dumb and happy without you." Hena's caramel eyes were alight with a conviction that caught Link off guard. One of her small, deft hands curled into a fist as she continued. "You scared the chum out of me, Link. I thought you were going to die." She let her hands drop limp into her lap. "I don't ever want to feel like that again."

Link was silent again for a long moment, working his jaw. His heart was beating a bit too quick. Hena's words touched some feeling in him that he'd tried to push away for a long time. He still did not want to face it. So he pushed it away again. "I can't stay here."

"Yes, you can."

Hena was not making this easy. The worst part was that the small flame of feeling was evading his best efforts to extinguish it, and it was telling him that she was right. Link's brows drew together in frustration. "I won't be responsible for ruining anyone else's life," he said decisively.

Hena took his face in her hands again. Her eyes crinkled a bit with the hint of a smile and it was like the sunrise. "You've far from ruined me, Lincoln," she whispered.

Link opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again. He couldn't look away from the fisherwoman's eyes. They were so bright, so brown, full of so much emotion.

It took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. When he spoke, they came out broken. "I…I'm…afraid. Afraid that you'll get hurt."

Hena gave a one-shoulder shrug and smiled again, a bit regretfully. "There's danger everywhere, Link," she said. "If you never let yourself live because you're afraid of something going wrong, you'll look back and realize you've let life pass you by."

"It's safer that way."

"But it's not better," Hena stated. She looked at him steadily, openly. "Listen to me, Link. I don't know your story. I don't know everything about you. But I'm not slow. I can see how you're living; always looking over your shoulder. Looking everywhere else but inside."

Link felt the truth of her words like salt in a wound. His thoughts ran before he could rein them in. _When I look inside, I see things that scare me. Like how much I…_

He caught himself abruptly.

Hena was continuing: "You can't worry about everyone else all the time. You're a person too, Link." She leaned in again. "When was the last time you did something you wanted? I mean actually?"

Link said nothing. He had no answer. He had never done what he'd wanted. He'd been alone for as long as he could remember, barely scraping by, and employed for the greater part of that time. Someone else had always reaped the benefits of his hard work.

Hena saw the truth in his face. "Exactly," she said. "Let me be the one to tell you, Link: life is too precious to waste it staring into the shadows. You have to look up and notice the beautiful things every once in a while."

Link's gaze went of its own accord to her lips. Like the rest of her, they were gentle, expressive, full of life. And very distracting. His thoughts wandered. The tingling feeling in his chest encouraged him to consider Hena's words. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to do as she suggested. Maybe, as long as they kept to the sanctuary of the pond, Link and Hena would be safe.

Well—no matter what, Link would keep her safe.

He flicked his attention back to her eyes as she grinned. "All these expert tips and I haven't even charged you a rupee. You've swindled me again, pretty boy." Without warning, she bent down to him and rubbed her nose briefly with his. It was an affectionate gesture, if odd. It threw Link off balance for a moment and he felt his cheeks grow warm.

Hena straightened up enough to meet his eyes. "So you're staying, right?" she pressed. The tension in her tone betrayed her true feelings.

For a long moment, Link didn't speak. Against his better judgment, he wanted to stay. He wanted to spend his days on the pond with Hena. He wanted to let the burdens of Hyrule slip from his shoulders and live in peace instead. He wanted to look up and notice the beautiful things, as Hena had said. He wanted to notice her, who was just as beautiful as her little corner of the world. He wanted…

He wanted too much.

But maybe it was time to let himself.

So slowly that his neck creaked with the motion, Link nodded.

"Good," Hena said immediately, smiling widely. The word carried a note of relief. Quickly, before, Link could change his mind, Hena hopped off the bed and swept toward her small kitchen space, her bright voice chasing away any danger of silence: "Let me change your bandages again, and then I'll whip us up some supper. Yeah?"

Link felt the barest trace of a smile pull at his lips. "Yeah."

...


	7. Chapter 7

After they'd eaten, Link could not help but shift restlessly against his pillows, his feelings of guilt still gnawing at him. Though Hena had assured him otherwise, Link could not shake his misgivings about staying. Being bedridden only made his mood worse; without a way to vent, he was trapped in his own mind until further notice. Trying to distract himself, he watched Hena from across the room.

She was at the window staring out at the evening pond. Link envied the signs of relaxation that softened the lines of her body as she leaned against the sill, legs crossed and head tipped to the side. But he also noted the tension in her shoulders and the darkness beneath her eyes, and he he felt a twinge of sympathy. As he watched, she turned her head and lay her brown gaze upon him thoughtfully. She must have seen the restlessness in his posture, because she smiled slightly and said, "Got a bit of cabin fever, huh?"

Link shrugged, not understanding.

"If I let you outside, will you run off?" she joked, although Link saw real worry hanging like shadows behind her eyes.

He shook his head, holding her gaze. He wouldn't hurt her like that again. Not if he could help it. The realization hit him like a Goron-thrown stone: maybe he was not afraid of risking Hena to the Twili monsters. Maybe he was afraid of how he might hurt her. Link shuddered and tried to push that incriminating thought away.

"Let's go sit by the pond, then, yeah?" Hena suggested gently.

Link glanced down at his bandages, but Hena saw his motion and said, "The water's done enough that you should be able to move around a bit without…you know." The slight wince on her face told enough. Link tried to banish the lingering memories of his recent faceplant.

"I'll help you, just to be safe," Hena decided.

Link opened his mouth to protest as she crossed to his bedside, but Hena shushed him. "Give me your arm," she murmured, settling beside him and leaning in so that he could loop an arm across her shoulders. She wrapped one of hers around his middle, careful to avoid his bandages. His ears burned in embarrassment as he struggled to his feet, Hena bearing a portion of his weight. _Hyrule's hero reduced to a tottering cripple._ He sighed sharply in frustration as he straightened up and his head went light.

"Go slow," Hena said kindly but firmly. "You're not invincible."

Link only grunted in answer. He moved to the door without a hitch, legs acclimating to carrying his weight once again. He was loath to admit to himself how thankful he was for Hena's arm encircling his waist. The press of her body against his was comforting. He looked down at her briefly, feeling his heart twist with that unfamiliar emotion.

Hena felt his gaze and tipped her head up to him questioningly. Their faces were very near. The caramel of her irises was warm and open and Link found himself trapped in them for a moment. Her freckles gradually faded beneath a blush. A few heartbeats passed before she squeezed his hand briefly, snapping him out of his reverie.

She smiled at his surprised blink. "I'm glad you decided to stick around," she said. Link was given the feeling that there was a depth to those words, as if she were somehow baring her heart to him.

He still felt a needle of guilt, but it faded a bit every time he let himself melt into Hena's comforting presence. He squeezed her hand back to communicate what he couldn't yet say.

They left the cabin and crossed the porch at a snail's pace. The fresh air made Link feel better immediately. He looked up, studying the golden sky as a breeze skimmed over the distant cliff and dropped down into their sanctuary to brush his face. The sun was on its way toward the horizon, and its light streaked the clouds with orange and red. In the peace of the pond and Hena's presence, Link was almost able to forget that twilight was coming soon.

Almost.

The fisherwoman led him down the grassy slope toward the dock and helped him down onto the plush bank beside it. The grass was just as soft as Hena's lent mattress, but smelled of nature and freedom. Link settled back into it carefully, cradling his midriff so as to mind his wound.

Hena saw his gingerness and her brows slanted in concern. "Is it bleeding?" she asked.

Link shook his head. He patted the ground beside him, and Hena came to sit cross-legged in the indicated spot. "You'll tell me if it does, yeah?" she pressed, not mollified.

Link looked at her sideways and nodded. Hena's shoulders finally relaxed, and she grinned crookedly, her dimples showing. "Can never be too careful with you, Lincoln. You could be stampeded by a herd of horses and still tell me you're fine."

Link gave a noncommittal shrug in good humor. Hena elbowed him with mock irritation, but mindfully kept her touch gentle. Link felt his chest tingle warmly. Was this what Hena meant by _the beautiful things_? Sharing a bit of playful banter by the water's edge as the sun dipped lazily toward the cliffs, worries of the world seeming far away, the two of them simply enjoying their closeness…

Link slid a look at the fisherwoman, studying the way the light of the sunset traced her profile fantastically. Her eyes were as clear as ever and reflected a touch of honey gold in their brown depths. Her lips were curved in a soft smile, and Link could practically see the glow of serenity radiating from her form.

For a long moment, both of them were quiet. Hena was the first one to break the lull, but she did so in a quiet voice, almost reverently:

"You know, I kind of like twilight," she reflected.

Link swallowed down a sudden pang of anxiety. Peace never lasted very long for him. He forced himself to ask, "Why?"

Hena leaned back on the plush grass, supporting herself on her elbows. Her head was tilted thoughtfully as she regarded the molten sky. "It's just…profound," she mused. "It's a time where two opposites blend together and the world all kind of compromises. You don't see that anywhere else."

Link still watched her, but he said nothing. Hena twirled a strand of hair around her finger as a hint of a blush colored her cheeks. "I know I sound like a crazy person, but it just means something special to me," she murmured.

Link looked down and worked his jaw slowly, searching for the right words. The radiant, heavy twilight atmosphere and the chaos of his recovering mind were beginning to do things to him. Dangerous thoughts were tugging insistently at his awareness. Out here, it felt as if he and Hena were the only ones in the world. Nothing could touch them. Nothing could hurt them.

Nothing was stopping him from telling her everything: what the beasts were that had nearly killed them; what the twilight really meant to him; why it wasn't easy to stay with Hena despite his growing feelings for her. She deserved answers. Link just wasn't sure where to start.

When he finally raised his eyes to hers, she had grown somber. He wondered how much of his thoughts she could guess at.

"Some say," he began cautiously, "that the twilight is a time when the dead come close to the living."

Hena made a face. "I know. I kind of avoid looking at it that way; my dead grandpa was such a codfish."

Link's jaw dropped slightly. Seeing his horror, Hena backtracked quickly, "Don't look at me like that! I'm kidding." She settled back on her hands and looked at him with a careful kind of intensity. "But really…I think twilight is really a time for the living. Otherwise it wouldn't be so beautiful."

Link held her gaze silently. He wanted to believe her. Twilight had haunted him for so long as a reminder, a symbol of his struggle between life and death. His burdens were heavy, and twilight always made him very aware of their weight. He never knew what monsters the night may bring. He never knew if he would live to see the sun rise again.

But Hena had a different way of looking at it. Maybe twilight was not something that made Link who he was. Perhaps instead, Link could dictate what the twilight was.

Right now, studying the planes of Hena's kind face cast in the gold of the lowering sun, Link felt that he was the one molding the twilight instead of the other way around.

Link didn't answer her. Instead, slowly, he extended his hand. His heart was jumping. It was novel to him that he could face beasts and monsters without panicking, but a woman made him positively nervous.

He reached across the remaining distance. Lightly, his fingers touched hers.

Hena's caramel eyes widened, but the blush that began to hide her freckles was not disapproving.

Link felt the tips of his own ears heat up. His stomach did a twist, but he would not turn back now. He slid his hand over hers to cover it gently.

Hena let her eyes drift down to the point of contact. She chewed her lower lip as if deep if thought. Then as Link watched with bated breath, she turned her hand over tentatively so that their palms faced one another. It was she who gently laced her fingers with Link's first. She hesitated a moment before she looked back up at him and let a smile begin to spread over her face.

"Hena," said Link softly, treasuring the feeling of her hand in his. He looked at her steadily. "I won't hide it anymore."

"Hide…?"

"What I do. With that sword." He nodded toward the cabin where he knew the Master Sword was leaning on the wall, practically humming with divine energy.

Hena sat forward, her face growing serious and attentive. "Shoot," she welcomed.

"Those dark beasts that attacked us…" —Hena's face paled slightly at the mention, but she said nothing— "they're called Twili.

"There are tyrants from another realm trying to take over Hyrule. With twilight. Only waking the Light Spirits can make it lift. Princess Zelda and a princess of the Twili—a good one—are trying to defeat the ones behind it."

Hena's lips were parted as she tried to absorb his short, broken account. "And you…?"

"I am…their hands."

"So, tell me if I'm wrong—you're working for a couple of magic princesses to fight some nasty blokes from an evil twilight realm in order to save the whole kingdom?" Her clear brown eyes were wide.

Link looked away. Then he nodded.

Hena squeezed his hand, leaning in. "That's incredible! And no one knows what's going on?" she asked.

Link's jaw muscles went tight. "Just us and the monsters. When…when regular people are caught in the twilight realm, they turn into spirits. But they don't remember it."

Hena watched him, trying to understand.

"Most of Hyrule was covered in twilight, at the beginning," Link continued, trailing off.

"So nobody would know if they'd been enveloped in that twilight stuff and turned into spirits. Or that you saved them?" she questioned.

Link looked at her quietly. His silence was an affirmative. Slowly Hena followed the thought logically, and her expression grew more and more disturbed as she put the pieces together. "You're saying…I wouldn't remember that either."

Link nodded, still silent.

Hena found his gaze. "Link, was I a spirit?"

Again, a slow nod.

Suddenly Hena fell back, and Link was alarmed until he saw her let out an explosive sigh and toss her arms over her head dramatically. She lay on her back, staring at the sky as the natural twilight faded and the dark blue of night crept further toward the horizon.

"That's so crazy," she said. "If I were hearing this from anybody else, I'd say you're spinning me a yarn, but—" she glanced at him and he saw that she was at a loss, "—it's _you._ "

Link lowered himself down beside her. Their shoulders touched in the near darkness. He too watched the light die. "So," he said in conclusion, "I'm supposed to save Hyrule from an encroaching evil spirit realm. That's my job."

Hena laughed genuinely, and it almost made Link smile. She tipped her head over slightly to look at him. "That's so much more exciting than running a fishing hole," she said. He saw her grin so that her dimples appeared.

Then she rolled up onto her elbow so that her body faced him. "But seriously," Hena said, "you're fighting a battle for the whole kingdom alone? Doesn't the princess have an army? Or— or—"

Link grunted, "Just guards. All turn to spirits. I'm the one meant to do this."

"But what if…?" she left the question incomplete, but Link guessed her thoughts.

"What if I die," he finished bluntly. He looked down, fiddling absently with the hem of his tunic. "I don't know. I think about that a lot."

Hena frowned deeply. She reached over to brush away a firefly which had tried to land on Link's chest. "How can you live with such a burden, Link? I…I'd break." Her eyes were unsettled as they reflected the last of the sun.

Link sighed, and all his pain was communicated in that one small, empty sound. "Maybe I am broken," he reflected. "But—" He took her hand before she pulled it back from his chest. Turning it over gently, he exposed her wrist, where he ventured to plant a kiss. Then he raised his eyes to hers. "I'm learning to live with it. Because of places like this." He indicated the pond and the grove and the cliffs around them. "And people like you."

Hena tried to speak, but her breath caught and she had to swallow hard before words would come. She was propped up on her elbow facing Link. Now, holding her wrist, he'd brought her even closer. She could see the patterns in his blue irises as he held her gaze.

"That's poetic," she said, wanting to diffuse the tension. But, she realized…she didn't actually want to. Hena's thoughts were moving slower than her instincts.

How did her free hand end up there, stroking back Link's choppy hair?

When did those words come out of her mouth, whispered like a secret?: "You know what? You should quit. The kingdom can go hook itself; I don't want you to die."

When did Link begin to smile?

When did she start to realize how attractive those lips were?

What was controlling her when she gave in to the slight pull on her wrist and leaned down, letting her eyes drift shut, feeling the hero's breath breeze across her cheek?

…Meeting those quiet lips with her own?

...


	8. Chapter 8

Link woke to the light hiss of a midnight breeze and furrowed his brow, confused as to where he was. He reached out sluggishly with his senses and mulled over each detail: it was dark, but the natural and open darkness of a clear outdoor night. He heard water lapping idly and crickets chirping from somewhere distant. He felt plush grass beneath him and…

 

Link smiled as his sleepy mind put the pieces together. Hena was drooped against his shoulder, snoring softly. Her warmth and the springy breeze made the night comfortable, even outside. After she’d kissed him—finally, foolishly—they had made no move to break the peace of each other’s company out here by the pond. Instead, Link had pulled her close and there they simply dozed side by side until the moon rose.

 

Now Link wrapped his arm more snugly around her and leaned his head against her hair. She smelled of airy comfort and the white blossoms that fringed the pond’s trees. He felt his smile widen as she shifted against him and her arm fell across his chest.

 

For once, Link did not think of the consequences. He did not think of all that might go wrong later. He did not think of tomorrow at all. He certainly did not think about Zelda and Midna and the Twili. No; right now he just thought of Hena.

 

Whatever came with the sunrise, he knew that Hena would be there and he would be close by to protect her. And, he knew that in himself something was different. A good sort of different. 

 

…

 

When Link opened his eyes again, he had to raise his arm immediately to shield them from the sun. The golden orb had already risen from behind the trees and was on its way toward his peak. He groaned in bewilderment. Had Link ever slept so late before?

 

When he pushed himself up on his elbows and rose into a sitting position, his joints creaked and his tunic was damp with dew. Somehow, though, it was a good sort of discomfort. It meant that he hadn’t tossed and turned all night under the abuse of constant nightmares. It meant that he’d been calm with Hena beside him.

 

Looking down at the place she’d lain, Link registered that she was gone. No panic sparked to life in him, though, as he was too sleepy to assume the worst. Instead he lifted his head and squinted across the dewy, sun-gilded grass toward the pond. The water was catching the midmorning rays of the sun on its gentle crests, throwing back blinding sparkles like the reflection of diamonds. The cliffs and blossoming trees were mirrored serenely in its surface. And there, on the center of the pond, Hena drifted in her small craft.

 

As Link watched, she turned and noticed him sitting, and her face broke into a beautiful grin. One hand she raised to secure her floppy hat against a light gust of wind, and the other she raised to wave at Link. “Hey, Lincoln,” she called, her voice carrying across the water. “You slept long enough!”

 

Link felt a smile of his own tug at his lips but did not reply. Instead he stood and stretched, rubbing a knot out of his neck with one hand. Once his limbs felt loose he relaxed and padded across the grass toward the dock. The worn wood was warm under his feet, already lightly baked by the rising sun. There he stood and watched as Hena piloted her canoe languidly back toward him, fishing pole leaning against the bench beside her.

 

As she drifted in to the dock, Link reached out a hand for her and helped her hop to dry land. “Why, thank you.” Hena blushed, smiling shyly. She turned and the two of them secured the craft to the dock together.

 

“Fish already?” Link noticed in wonderment, eyes scanning the bow of the canoe where a healthy amount of Hylian bass were gleaming in the sunlight.

 

“A girl’s got to start early if she wants the best catch of the day, yeah?” Hena replied teasingly.

 

“But you’re the only one here.”

 

Hena leaned back into his arms, and Link found himself hugging her around the waist. “I’m talking about the fish, not the fishermen,” she giggled.

 

Link didn’t know why that was funny, but he enjoyed the feeling of her in his arms. He leaned in and rested his chin on her shoulder. Hena turned her head and brushed their noses together affectionately. “You okay, pretty boy?” she murmured.

 

Link hummed an affirmative. “Should we unload your fish?”

 

“They can dry for a while.” Hena gently untangled herself from him and instead bent to work on removing her galoshes. When she noticed him still standing there she smiled and tilted her head toward the edge of the dock. “Want to sit with me?”

 

Link complied agreeably, moving to lower himself to the lip of the dock and hang his feet over the water while Hena got free of her shoes and did the same. Looking down, the fisherwoman began to trail her big toes in the water. After a moment she grimaced and withdrew them, instead pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them to her. When Link gave her a querying look she explained, “Still cold.”

 

He chuckled and dipped his own toes in to test her judgment. The water was indeed chilly, but Link thought it was refreshing. He kicked his feet beneath the surface idly. As he leaned his weight back on his arms, he looked over at Hena and found her staring out at the pond, an odd expression on her face. She seemed confused. Frustrated, perhaps.

 

Link nudged her with his shoulder. When she turned to him as if startled from a dream, he gave her another questioning look.

 

“Oh, I—” Hena seemed to realize for the first time that she’d been making a face. She shrugged and shook her head as if it weren’t anything worth mentioning, but then explained anyway, “I was just thinking. I come out here every day and do the same thing every day and I know this place like the back of my hand, but…” She shrugged again. “I don’t _actually_. Like, look at the pond. I know its twists and turns and secret coves and where the water’s warmer and where the fish like to gather, but there’s so much below the surface that no one’s ever seen before. It’s a secret. Like…” She looked up to face him squarely, a realization in her eyes. “like you, pretty boy.”

 

Link smiled softly. “It doesn’t have to stay a secret.”

 

Her caramel gaze flickered between his two eyes, searchingly. When she seemed unable to find her answer there, she asked, “Do you mean you, or the pond?”

 

“Both.” Link’s smile went crooked and he pushed himself to his feet. Hena made as if to rise as well, lips parted to ask him what he was doing, but Link caught her shoulder and pressed her back gently. “Wait here.”

 

…

 

“Are you sure this thing is going to work?” Hena stretched the woven black mask between her hands and twisted it appraisingly. When she looked up at Link, her eyes were unconvinced.

 

Link nodded and reached for the Zora’s mask. She passed it to him, and he brought it to his face. “Just hook these around your ears,” he said, demonstrating. His voice sounded muffled behind the slick, shimmering material. “Once you’re underwater there’s suction.”

 

Hena was torn between her desire to uncover the secrets of the pond floor and her fear that the odd mask would trick her into a watery doom. She continued to eye the contraption distrustfully, even as Link took it from his face and handed it back to her. When she switched her gaze to his eyes, they were sparkling with humor.

 

“What’s so funny?” Hena snapped indignantly.

 

“Scared?” Link teased.

 

She scowled and crossed her arms, pushing her lower lip out in defiance. “Of course not!”

 

Link shrugged his concession. Then he reached into the satchel he’d retrieved from the cabin and brought out a pair of boots. Or, at least at first they looked like boots. Upon closer inspection, Hena realized that they were made of metal. She gave Link an alarmed look, wondering if he was joking.

 

He just smiled. “How about now?”

 

“I— I—” Hena looked between him and the metal boots several times, gaping in disbelief. “You’re supposed to wear these? Underwater?” She reached out and ran her fingers over one of the iron shoes, confirming that they were indeed made of metal, and appropriately heavy.

 

“How else will you walk on the bottom?” Link asked innocently, that little smile still tugging at his lips.

 

Was he serious? “I’ll drown!” she protested.

 

“That’s what the mask is for.”

 

Hena was speechless, still struggling with the idea. She couldn’t rightly tell Link no and have him think her a lily-liver, but those boots—! She grimaced, prodding at the iron shoes once again. They looked like death traps. Was possibly drowning a fair trade for a little underwater exploration?

 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Link’s gentle voice broke into her thoughts.

 

Link could clearly see her consternation. He was trying to give her an out, a chance to admit she was a coward in a more dignified way. That made Hena’s determination flare. He wasn’t allowed to think she couldn’t do it! “No!” Hena declared. She hopped to her feet and stood her ground. “I’ll do it. Pa always said I have an adventurer’s heart. I think I ought to prove it.”

 

Link met her glare with kind amusement and held the mask out to her. Hena balked slightly and then rushed to cover it up with, “Just let me—I just have to, uh, get out of these waders. Turn around.”

 

While Link’s back was turned, Hena gripped her head between her hands and forced herself to take deep breaths. This was fine! She could do this. Link promised it would work. And if it didn’t, he would be there to help her. Plus she was a strong swimmer anyway. This would be fine. It would be fine. She dropped her hands and then actually began to change clothes.

 

Once stripped to her blouse and undershorts, she said to Link, “All right.” Her fists were planted firmly on her hips as he turned around and met her eyes. “Let’s do this.”

 

This time when he extended the Zora mask to her, Hena took it and began to secure it over her face like he’d shown her. The material was loosely woven enough to allow air through, which concerned her. Maybe the slick, iridescent strands were magically waterproof. She hoped so. There was no way the thing could functionally allow her to breathe beneath the surface. She felt her breath coming quicker with anxiety as the mask clamped over her mouth.

 

This is fine, she told herself. It will be fine.

 

Link had been watching her the whole time. She was sure he could see the fear flickering in her eyes.

 

It was still unexpected when he stepped forward and laid a brief kiss on her forehead. She blinked as he moved away again, twirling a few of her soft stray hairs around his fingers. “Trust me,” he said, leaning down slightly to hold her gaze. “It works.” Then he scooted the iron boots toward her with his foot.

 

She took a deep, steadying breath. “All right, then,” she said, more to herself than Link. She made herself bend down and slide her feet into the death trap shoes, wiggling them to make sure there was enough room to get free if need be. Then she straightened with a brave face. “Let’s go.”


End file.
